He’s back…….

Picture is one of my own.

I have had a really good week. Short as it was only a 32 hour work week. Work has been humming along. I am getting things done. I am getting ready for my 2 weeks vacation at the end of August. I have been exercising on a regular basis. And beginning to see results.

So despite my promise to myself that I was not going to drink until September 10th, I decided that I would have a glass of wine to celebrate my week. I even discussed it with mom. Deciding that if I was going to fail and fall off the wagon, I would rather do it now, while T is gone rather than when he is here to be disappointed by my lack of control.

So I had that first glass of wine while I made supper. Checking emails and yes it went down nice and smooth. I decided to have another with dinner. I never did finish that second glass of wine on Thursday evening. Was in bed and asleep just shortly after 8 p.m. Awoke in the morning with that taste in my mouth and a sense of relief. As nice as that first glass had been, having quit cold, I realize I do not need nor crave it as I had been just a month ago.

Friday I rocked it out. Woke up at 4, looked at the clock and thought I can get up now. (This in response to my awakening at 12 and thinking I could get up.) I cleaned the house and had my laundry done before 6 a.m. Than I waited for 9 as I was doing shopping. Back to school and grocery. My day was amazing. And again, I was in bed early.

Yesterday was a typical day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not really. Until it struck me. My hands began to shake, I could feel my heart racing. A tightening of my skin. I am sure my pupils were dilated. I took a deep breath and placed my hands firmly on the table.

  1. Something I can feel and concentrate on.
  2. Deep Breath and feel the floor beneath your feet, the table beneath your hands.
  3. Deep Breath and feel the chair beneath your butt, the floor beneath your feet, the table beneath your hands.
  4. Deep Breath and feel the soft brush of Lucky’s fur as she winds around your ankles, feel the chair beneath your butt, the floor beneath your feet, the table beneath your hands.
  5. Deep Breath, Exhale, open your eyes, feel how your are grounded, centered, there is nothing here.

It took several minutes of this. Finally I could feel my heart begin to slow and the flight or fight adrenaline rush began to subside. I was still shaking and gulping to swallow. The aftermath of an anxiety attack that hit me out of the blue. It has been several months since I last had an attack. There had been absolutely nothing to have precipitated it. I was sitting relaxing on the computer.

Or was there? I am a bit of a superstitious person. Not like a black cat crossing my path is bad luck, or if my nose is itchy I am going to kiss a fool. No, mine is more like if I hit all the green lights on the way to work, it is going to be a good day. Small things like that. If you have a stream of good luck, do not speak it out loud for you shall jinx it.

Still buried deep within my brain is a shard of anxiety. The black despair that makes me think that I am screwing everything up and suddenly it is making a reappearance. Why? Work is going really well. I am letting go of some things and delegating to my supervisors and staff. It is a hard and scary step for me. Maybe too well?

I am healthy and happy. Energetic, alive, in a way that I have never been before.

Suddenly I realize what Thursday was about. The desire to drink, “celebrate” my week had been a test. Subconsciously I was testing myself and I had won.

Whoa whoa whoa, anxiety suddenly rears up. Hang on here. Jay is happy, things are going well. Oh no, we most certainly cannot have that. We cannot allow her to ride away from us, nope, nope get out that rope and lasso that girl back here.

Yes anxiety has become a cowboy so I can put a face to him. Mock him when I am well. Envision myself as my own Good Sheriff battling the Evil Sheriff for control of my brain when he comes out to cause trouble.

He ropes me. I use my technique to ground and center my being, wriggling my way out of the lasso. We have a stare down and eventually he slinks away, hat pulled low over his brow so I cannot see his malevolent stare. He will be back. Possibly next time with guns drawn. That is okay. I won this time.

 

Stain upon my soul

I wrote this in 2012 on this day. I have been paying attention to my ‘On this day….’ and rediscovering lost words. Picture is also mine.

Begone, beyond, feelings tossed to the moors

frightful, disturbing, unwanted, pain

Rapture, only found with denial, with revulsion

go not into the embrace, but fight for hell.

You say you will forgive me, you will wipe away my tears

you say that your eyes alone, can divine the stain upon my soul.

You say that through you and you alone, can I find salvation.

yet you turn your head, your ears, your eyes

When I do not behave;

how your ambassadors on earth feel I should.

Call me not a coward, nor defiant

you and you alone gave me free will

My choice, my decision, my desire

hurt not others, all shall be good.

Find the stain upon my soul,

enough to curse me.

To send me to hell.

Yet you gave me the ability to choose,

and still you punish.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

August 5/12

 

 

 

T’s turning 9

My little boy is turning 9 on Monday, August 7th. (Just in case anyone is so lost in the summer that they are not quite sure of the date he he he) This is going to be a hard one for me as he is with his dad so I will not be seeing him. I lied. I just text his dad(at 6:50 a.m. on a Saturday morning) to ask him to rearrange plans so that I could at least see T and give him a hug and kiss.

T is not so little any more. He was born two months premature. Due October 4th and decided to arrive on August 7, 2008. We were building the ex’s shop and joke that T wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

I was scared.

When I found out I was pregnant.

Bear in mind I was 35 not 25.

It is a kinda funny story how it all started. At work I had been complaining that my boobs were killing me. Everyone joked that I was pregnant. I scoffed. We had been trying for 5 years, were in the final process for adoption (where they did home visit etc.) but damn when my 3 lb cat stepped on me I nearly killed her they hurt so much. Clue number 1.

I could not understand why I could no longer drink coffee. I wanted it. I would pour my cup and set it down. Take a sip or two and than allow it to grow cold. I love my coffee. There is life in my coffee. And niceness. And civility. Should have been clue number 2.

It was our first new long weekend in February. For non-Canadians, the government decided that it was too long for workers to go from January to March/April without having a long weekend. So in February we have Family Day or as in Manitoba, the province I live in, Louis Riel Day. A long weekend. My ex decided to go snowmobiling. I was excited to have Saturday and Sunday and most of Monday to myself.

Got home from work and set the groceries down on the floor to be put away. When I heard the first growl I snapped around. Oh shit! Odin my cross Great Pyrenees x Collie x St. Bernard and Nero my Rotti were about to go head to head. And I was on my own. I screamed and yelled. I threw a heater trying desperately to get them to stop fighting.

I had Odin on the porch and was kicking at him. Kicking him, hurting him, something I swore to never do. I had a hold of Nero. Almost had the door to the porch nearly closed when Nero surged forward bursting into the room. Now I am in the porch, desperate to pull these two dogs, who combined, weighed 200 lbs to my petite 115 lb frame, apart. They are snarling, saliva is spraying and I am screaming and yanking at them.

Nero hit the stand up tool box that we kept on the porch. Sockets rained down. I was trying to get the door open, because despite the fact it killed me, I needed to get them outside so the fight could end naturally. My socks were wet from the cream that someone had bitten and it had flowed all over the kitchen floor. I was not aware of this. I stepped on a socket and down I went. Hard.

Oh boy. Now I was mad. To top it off, as I stuck my hand out for balance, I managed to stick it in Nero’s mouth as he was in mid-bite. By the time that my brain even registered that I had been bitten, he had already let go and was looking at me. My anger and frustration, fear and tears turned to rage in that moment. Rage that my damn dogs wanted to fight. Rage that I was alone dealing with this. Rage that I had been bitten! I slammed open the door leading outside and screamed at them to get out.

Stood at the kitchen sink washing the wound while screaming out the window for them to stop. The entire fight lasted no more than 2 minutes, 3 tops. It felt like an eternity to me. I got Odin in the house, put Nero on the porch and looked at my hand. Yep, pierced right through fat and oh my god is that bone????????

Called my girlfriend up and she and her boyfriend left the restaurant they were at before they even got their meal, to come and get me. Hospital here I come. They could not believe my lack of fear and stoicism as my hand was cleaned and bound. Heavy duty meds to counter any infection and I was sent home. With a doctor’s note, I was now off work for the week. (As an aside my hand blew up to 3x’s its size and I could not move it the next day, or the day after that.)

Up until this point my periods had been every 28 days without fail. So when I skipped the Sunday after that fight, I put it down to stress. By Wednesday, I was concerned and I purchased a home pregnancy test. Took it and began to clean the house. Completely forgot about the test for an hour. An hour people!!!! When I did remember in I went in to be presented with 2 double pink lines. The first thing I breathed was ‘Holy Fuck man, I cannot do this.’

Called the ex. Called the doctor for a second opinion. They told me to come in as soon as I could pee again. I drank two bottles of water and off I went. I was scared as shit. I had lost my daughter when I was five months pregnant with her. There has never been any answers for me as to why that happened. This was 15 years prior. I was in shock.

T was an extremely laid back baby in the womb. Rarely moved, when he did it was in response to my drinking a Coke (which I had stopped drinking years ago, switching to Pepsi, but he liked Coke. Or I had eaten a chocolate bar) Or when Patches the cat draped herself over my tummy and purred away. He liked that. He was not a fan of anything with processed sugar so I ate a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables.

From day 1 I knew he was going to be a boy. Everyone warned me that saying he was a boy meant that I was having a girl. But I knew. There were a lot of differences between this pregnancy and my daughter’s. However, he had a strong heartbeat, when he chose to kick me they were good strong kicks. Yet still I worried.

Tuesday August 5th, 2008. I worked a normal day. Except I knew that something was off because I barely ate. Got home, made supper which I again barely ate and flaked out on the couch. I was exhausted. Could not keep my eyes open. Something was not right. The ex came in and I told him this as I was preparing for bed at 8 p.m.

Got up at 10:50 p.m. to go to the bathroom. Made it to the bedroom doorway when it happened. My water broke. Now I was terrified. I still had 2 months to go. And it just kept coming. An incredible sense of calm broke over me as my ex panicked. I dressed although by the time I got to the hospital my sweats were soaked.

At emerg I was asked if I was okay to walk down to admissions. My eyebrow shot up. Away I went only to be sent back to emerg 2 minutes later with papers in hand. The hospital is not outfitted for premature births so I was going to be sent to Winnipeg, if in fact my water had broken and I had not just peed myself.

That is right folks. The nurse on duty asked me if I was sure that my water had broken and I had just not peed myself. (Mom I love you and know you have mad nursing skills but I nearly decked this woman). Off I was sent to pee in bottle because well all pregnant women have to pee in little bottles for months and months.

Then came the test to ensure that my water had broken. This one a little more invasive and potentially could lead to infection. And they lost the first one. So I had to allow more invasions only to be told what I had already told them. My waters had broken. Ex was sent home to get me clothes to change into. Thank god I had my book with me. Although truth be told, I would read the same page over and over again.

I was fucking scared. T had been pretty quiet. I was set up on an i.v. drip to, I don’t even remember. I had no one to call. I mean yeah, I could have called mom or the bro. Truth be told, I wanted, I needed a girlfriend who would come running, hold my hand and tell me everything would be totally fine.  My ex was not really helpful in the face of an emergency so there I was deep breathing, trying to control my anxiety and wait.

I was taken by ambulance to St. Boniface in Winnipeg. By 5 p.m. Wednesday August 6th I was dilating and having contractions. Mom got a speeding ticket as she rushed to my side. My bro and SIL came to offer me encouragement. The ex’s mother showed up and wished she could go into the delivery room with me. Also made it all about her. The drugs were wonderful though. No epidural for this girl. No Morphine. They gave me Fentanyl which could be given right up until I went into the delivery room as it did not affect T. Epidural, I was pretty far along in my contractions because I had back labor, might not have worked. So why try?

Again my labor was fairly easy. My contractions were five minutes apart. Lasted a minute. The worst two I had, when T moved into the birth canal and his head popped out. When his head came out I was ready to quit until told all I needed to do were little pushes. Waved my hand at the doctor and informed him ‘I could so do that.’

I had been warned not to worry if T did not cry when he arrived. His heartbeat had been strong throughout labor. But when my little guy arrived and they laid him on my belly, he squalled and screamed. Tears filled my eyes as I reached down and said ‘Welcome to the world baby.’ And he grabbed my thumb and squeezed. 16.5″ long and 3.15 lbs. Six weeks in NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) and then he came home.

Flash forward nine years later. To look at him you would never know that he was premature. There have been no delays in his development.  He is smart as a whip. Funny with a sense of humor that rivals mine. (He also has a dirty little mind that I am working very hard to ignore) His sarcasm is coming to a fine point. And I am sure that by next year he will be as tall as me, if not taller.

And on Monday, August 7/17 my baby is going to be 9. OMG I just realized that next year he will be a tween!!!!! Will I keep my hair?

 

 

 

Not really sure….

I am going to apologize in advance. This is probably going to be a rather disjointed and completely odd blog. Basically it is going to end up much like my actual conversations do. All over the place. Because without fail, one thing I am talking about leads seamlessly to this other thing. It all makes sense. At least in my mind, however, I have been known to cause some deep confusion and perplexity. Thus my advanced ‘I am so sorry.’

I have not written much. Have been going through a lot of my older poetry and posting those as they have struck a chord with me. I have been rereading posts on Facebook that I made as I began to recover from my depressive state in 2014. Those have been hard to read. I find myself crying in sympathy for the creature I was. So broken and alone. Even though I was still married at the time, a mother, a daughter, a sister, unfortunately as hard as they tried, they could not really understand what I was going through.

Admittedly that depressive episode sent me on an evolutionary journey. I began to claw back my space, my time, my self. I began to be more confident and happy. I spread out my interests and was no longer afraid to say this is me. I put myself in the forefront as opposed to always hiding in the background. I could finally look in the mirror and not only like but be proud of the woman who was looking back at me. It lead to the dissolving of my marriage as I realized that the man I had just spent the last 20 years with, was not the love of my life. We did not have anything in common besides our son. I am grateful for the child that we created but I am a better woman, a better mother for being apart from him. Much as he is a better person, a better man for being without me. He told me at one part that this was the best thing to happen to him, he could not remember when last he had been this happy. I had a few people say he was trying to anger me, I said I hoped not, because I really do want him to be happy.

In the last year and a bit I have learned a hell of a lot again about myself. One is that I will need to remain on my anti-depressants for life. This causes me a wee bit of a quandary for I write like a demon when I am depressed. The words flow and bite, I have no shortage of ideas. My creativity spirals and dips, clinging to the wall and than breaking apart to dance in raindrops all around me. I know that I can write when I am happy. I wrote an entire novel in high school and no one can say I was depressed that whole time.

Oh wait, it was high school. I was the opposite of popular. But I had rocking friends and really who wants to be a part of the blonde perfection team? Such a hard standard to live up to.

This passed year I have made some huge changes. December 9/16 I quit smoking. My blood pressure was out of control. February 2017 I went back on my meds and my life has been amazing since I crawled out of that black cesspool. July 1/17 I quit drinking alcohol. At least until the end of my holidays on Sept. 10th. I needed to prove to myself that I could.

My father was an alcoholic. He died 13 years ago. Not really missed. I found myself in a pattern of always finding men like him. Incapable of looking after themselves, drinkers, irresponsible. Despite the fact that I would constantly promise myself that I would not be with nor marry a man like my father in all regards I did. Than once my marriage imploded (it did not dissolve amicably made worse by our continued living together until nearly 6 months later) I began to drink. And heavily.

So I made the decision that I was done. No more. T accused me of quitting drinking because Chichi (my mom) was home. I was honest with him and told him I quit because it was becoming a problem. He was stopped by that answer. Every so often I would really like a glass of wine but I think about T and this promise that I have made myself and eventually that urge passes.

I, who have always despised and never really required exercise, have added it to my daily routine. I was given a stationary bike that I ride between 1/2 to 3/4 of an hour 3 to 4x a week. I also have some toning exercises that I have thrown in for myself. Nothing serious, no work out DVD just a few things to tone and shape.

I have also changed the way that I eat. More fish, salad. Fresh veggies. Less pizza, fast food. Eating breakfast. Not sure if this also has to do with my turning 45 this year but it really has been a year of change thus far.

My blood pressure is the envy of mom. I am happy all the time. Laughing. T is with his dad for the next three weeks and I was telling my boss about it. Said to him ‘I have three weeks to do the things I cannot do while I have T with me. And than after that I have him for three straight weeks as well.’ My boss looked at me and said ‘Only you could find the positive in this.’

It took me a long while to compute what he had said to me. And it made me realize how far I have come in the last six months. How much happier I am. How I always have a smile on my face, a giggle or laugh ready. I will retrain my brain on writing happy if that is what it takes. Or it might just be the summer thang.

When I was younger I could only write from September to June. The school year. Do not ask me why. It may be that I love being outside and in the sun during the summer. Friends were always available because well, we were kids. So before I really panic I will wait for the school year to roll around and see if I cannot become more productive in my writing.

Until than I will reread and rediscover older poetry. If it strikes me and makes me think, I will post. I am okay with that. For as I discover this new person who is me, I am patient and willing to bet that eventually, the neural pathways will straighten out and the creativity will once more pour forth from me. 🙂

 

Reality

Sitting on the dock with my pain

staring at the stars above,

alone.

Locked in an endless cycle

of ‘I told you so’s.’

This is not the first time

nor shall it be the last

where I tell myself

you will not fall this time.

And each and every time

I fail.

Tears slide down my cheeks

as finally do I accept,

the reality,

the truth that comes

and put the fantasy to rest.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

July 21/17

**Picture as well is mine.

 

Stalker (no more)

***Picture courtesy of Pintrest***

The first time i saw her she took my breath

spotted through the lens of a security camera

i became lost in her beauty and only wanted to know

if she might desire me.

The first time I knew that something was amiss

the day a rose appeared on my desk

With a note detailing how nice I looked,

and I was charmed.

i began to find time to turn my lens her way

watching and learning all that i could of her,

wanting only to find a way in, to say hello

without scaring her away.

I began to fear as the flowers and notes became too much

looking over my shoulder wondering just who you are?

Every time the door dings alerting me to an entrance

my heart begins to race and I wonder if it is you?

i discovered where she lived and prowled the ‘hood

finding my way into her home.

i riffled through her drawers, coming away with souvenirs

leaving behind another welcome surprise.

The rose and petals strewn on my bed made my stomach churn

and so begins, another game, another race to discover

Who feels that they can terrorize me? Who thinks that they can gain?

admission to my heart and soul with such careless stuff?

i know we are to be together oh why can she not see?

i know that our souls will bond and bind

forever making us one of a kind.

I found the man I needed on a street unnamed

explained my needs and wants

he showed me guns and swords galore

while I made my peace.

i filmed you in so many ways, asleep, awake, undressed

tonight i shall climb in your window

taking your heart

and making you mine.

The people who swore that they could save me

are never near when needed.

Instead they mouth quiet promises of which I have seen the results

so we must do this my way.

i found the house in darkness, shadows layered upon shadows

for i chose a night with no moon.

together we shall make the sky alight

burning with our flames.

I sit in the blackness waiting.

I hear the window creak

left open to encourage the beast

and now the end is near.

in flickering candle light i found her

awake and waiting for me.

i knew but a brief minute of satisfaction

until she smiled at me.

A death mask revealed within my burning smile

as I waited for him to come.

Victim no more, I am the avenger

stealing back my life.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

July 20/17

 

Desolate and Beautiful

I went for a walk and saw beauty in the bleak desolation of an empty beach and pier that only the day before teemed with life. And though the wind nearly blew me over I found myself drawn to the roaring waves and wind sculpted sand. I needed to take these pictures.

I always wanted to paint but lack the talent to take what I see in my mind and bring it to life on paper. Now I have the ability to take the pictures that draw me in and edit via my phone. This is just the start.